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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620968">safe with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/livj707/pseuds/livj707'>livj707</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>To the Moon Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fights, First Aid, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, can you tell i'm starting to lose my mind from the lack of rosawatts content, if imposter factory doesn't serve i will riot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/livj707/pseuds/livj707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument with a patient's husband turns physical, and Neil and Eva attempt to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eva Rosalene &amp; Neil Watts, Eva Rosalene/Neil Watts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*peppers a deep talk into every fic i write* it's just my brand</p><p>dedicated to veronica whose enthusiasm for this fic was 90% of the reason i wrote it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a Tuesday evening when it happens.</p><p>A frigid one, with torrents of rainfall pummeling Eva's windshield and a dismal overcast that blankets the sky. Night has fallen by the time they leave the patient's house, icy raindrops barely being swept away by the force of the wipers. Eva doesn't mind. She likes driving in the rain, and similarly, driving at night. Somehow the white noise and darkness helps her mind rejuvenate. Today the dense and compacted traffic gives her something else to focus on, and the angry crackling of thunder is a comforting backdrop to the silence between her and her partner.</p><p>"I'm getting fired, aren't I?" Neil says suddenly, the first spoken words of the journey.</p><p>Eva turns to him, slumped defeated in the passenger seat, bag of ice pressed against one eye. His forehead is scraped and bleeding. "It's not really my jurisdiction, but I'd say that's a definite possibility, yes.” She attempts to hide her frustration, though it falls flat. “<em>Why</em>, Neil? Why would you do something like that?"</p><p>He stutters momentarily. "I was angry. And scared."</p><p>She scoffs. "Ah, there's a genius defense. Looks like you won't be getting fired after all."</p><p>“What do you want me to say?" he retaliates, pulling the bag of ice away to reveal a nasty black eye. "That guy attacked us. Attacked <em> you.</em>”</p><p>“I don’t want you to say anything." She's already desperate for a subject change, overwhelmed with the prospect of whatever comes next. Whether she’ll be partner-less within the next week or working side-by-side with some stranger, another new guy. "Now, I trust you have a first aid kit at your house? At the very least something to clean it with?”</p><p>“It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“It could get infected. I have to treat it. Please,” she whispers, “just let me help you.”</p><p>Neil rubs his uninjured eye. “I don’t know...I have hand soap, if that helps.”</p><p>“God, I have no idea how you’re still alive.” She stops rather abruptly and turns the car around, guiding them in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“To my place. Someone has to take care of that head wound, and I sure as hell don't trust that it's gonna be you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>He tries to tell himself it’s not the first. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The patient’s daughter is nice. Warm, friendly, welcoming. She opens her door to them with gratitude, showering them in blessings for the service they’re providing for her dying mother. Neil and Eva try to hide their surprise when she tells them her mother’s wish: to go through with a teenage dream of moving overseas, thereby eliminating the family she gained in the real world. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s not terribly surprising, however, that her daughter would appear content with such a reality, one where her mother isn’t aware of her existence. Plenty of their patients’ families have reached that type of acceptance, and those who don’t tend to hide it anyway. In this case, Neil can tell she’s holding something back; her voice shakes when she explains the wish, her eyes glossy and red-rimmed. But her mother is her top priority. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The same cannot be said for her father, the patient’s husband, looming in the back of the room when Neil and Eva arrive, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at them in detestment. It’s alarming, but otherwise tolerable, and they waste no time setting up the equipment and beginning the process. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s after they’re done that problems arise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Neil is packing up the rest of the supplies while Eva talks to the daughter, and the other man stands in the doorway of the room, staring at his now deceased wife with an expression that’s hardly readable. Finally he speaks, the first words he’s said in their presence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So that’s it? We don’t exist to her at all?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His daughter looks at him with a mix of compassion and fear. “It’s what she wanted. It has nothing to do with us.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nothing to do with us? Are you serious? So her choosing to throw away thirty years of marriage, that has nothing to do with me? Her giving up her only child? Are you hearing yourself?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dad, calm down,” she whispers, hands raised. “She’d want us to move on. To forgive her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And then you invite these strangers into our home,” he continues, whirling to Neil and Eva, his voice heavy with rage. Neil rises to his feet hesitantly. “You pay them to take away your mother’s entire life. Everything she’s worked for.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sir, we’re just doing our jobs,” Eva says calmly. “If you have a complaint, you can file it directly to Sigmund. I can give you a number, if you want.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, no need to shoot the messenger, so to speak,” Neil adds. He exchanges a look with Eva, both of warning and of caution. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s not the first. More often that not, a wish like this causes a great deal of tension among those involved, and with no one else to blame the family tends to take it out on the doctors they believe to be responsible. It's not the first. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it’s different. The man is different, the look in his eyes is different, the tension in the air is different. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dad, they’re just doing what they have to do,” the daughter says nervously. “It’s not their fault.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Neil's heart begins to race, and he shifts so that he’s standing in front of Eva, though quickly realizes he has to tilt his head upwards slightly to adjust for the size difference between him and the other man. Not a good sign. "Hey, man, back off." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "This is my house. This is my wife. I won't back off until you pack up your stuff and get the hell out of here." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "There's still paperwork to go through, sir," Eva speaks up from behind him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> "I wasn't talking to you, bitch." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without thinking Neil shoves him, hard, a sudden rage taking hold of him for only a moment. The man is knocked back a few steps, clearly caught off guard. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His face twists, and he lunges. There’s a chorus of gasps, and Neil somehow manages to dodge, his fist shooting upward and colliding with the man's jaw. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Oh, my God," Eva gasps as he falls to the floor, a loud thud that reverberates through the room. "Neil, what have you done?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He doesn't even get the chance to speak before the man rises again, red with fury. This time, Neil doesn't dodge fast enough.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Eva's apartment is disappointingly dingy, shadows creeping into the limited expanse even when she flips every lightswitch within her reach. She pulls the curtains open in hopes that any subtle car headlight or lightning strike will brighten up the place, if not simply make the space seem slightly less suffocating.</p><p>“Just take a seat on the couch while I get the stuff," she says monotonously, throwing her damp jacket onto a chair.</p><p>“Eva, I’m sorry.”</p><p>She shakes her head, a wordless plea for silence. “I know. We’ll talk in a minute.”</p><p>Eva makes her way down the hallway and into the bathroom, pulling the first aid kit from the highest shelf. On the way back she pauses, then stops in her bedroom, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket from her closet.</p><p>When she returns to the living room, he’s holding them.</p><p>The way he’s positioned tells her that he can see her, a frozen silhouette in the glow of the lamp light, hands hovering in place as soon as she steps in the room. He has one hand on the cap and the other clutched around the bottle itself, all too aware of her presence and noticeably uncertain what exactly to do next.</p><p>His stillness only lasts a few seconds, and then he unscrews the cap and pours two tablets into his palm, unable to hide the conspicuous rattle of pills inside the bottle. His movements are quick, careful, like it makes any difference at all, like maybe it'll hurt less for the both of them if he gets it over with as soon as possible.</p><p>Then he pauses. He's thinking. He's waiting. He's expecting her to say something.</p><p>“Do you want water to take those with?” Eva asks.</p><p>It's a simple gesture. It’s all she can do.</p><p>Something tells her it’s enough, for now.</p><p>He nods, though he doesn't look her in the eye. “Thanks."</p><p>She brings the glass to him and watches him swallow the pills, taking the smallest sip of water like he’s a little kid with a headache. She hides behind a curtain of hair as she opens up the first aid kit and takes out a tiny bottle of antiseptic, pouring some of the stuff onto a rag.</p><p>“What are those for?” he asks, gesturing to the pillow and blanket. “Am I sleeping on the couch?”</p><p>“No, I am. You’re getting the bed.”</p><p>“Whoa, hold on,” Neil argues, “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. Let alone take up space in your house.”</p><p>“Why not?” She replies. "You’re my guest. <em> Some </em> of us were taught manners, remember?</p><p>“I appreciate the free medical examination, but it’s fine. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. And that includes driving me home.”</p><p>“What are you gonna do, call a cab? Besides, I need to keep an eye on you so you don’t do anything stupid.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Like a last-ditch attempt to avoid the consequences for your actions.”</p><p>“You mean like pulling a Johnny?” he says with a smile. “Escaping to some remote cliffside mansion somewhere?”</p><p>Eva smirks. “Something like that. Now, hold still. The less you complain, the faster this will be over with.”</p><p>He flinches as soon as the rag makes contact with his forehead, teeth gritted and eyebrows knitted together. Eva rolls her eyes.</p><p>"You’re such a baby," she mumbles.</p><p>"A warning would've been nice. Don’t worry,” he adds, looking towards the painkillers, “these will kick in soon enough."</p><p>She avoids his gaze. "Yep."</p><p>Rain continues to pour outside, distant thunder cracks sending vibrations through the walls and floor. Eva scrubs the dried blood away from his wound in silence, trying to do so as gently as she can. For the first time she truly sees the extent of the injury, the way he grimaces and bites his lip through the pain. She’s never seen Neil put up a fight like that before. Anger doesn't suit him.</p><p>“So, have you come up with a better defense?” she asks after a few minutes. “Or do you just hope they’ll be sympathetic? That he won’t press charges?”</p><p>Neil falls silent for a moment, staring off into space. She knows him well enough to know when he’s contemplating something, his face expressionless, eyes trained on a fixed point, hands fidgeting with whatever is in a foot’s radius (which happens to be a tassel on one of her throw pillows).</p><p>“You keep asking me why I did what I did like there’s some set-in-stone answer,” he says finally. “You’re a doctor, Eves. You know how the human brain is. Stress, anger, fear, pressure...it all boils over at some point. I just <em> reacted.</em> I thought I was protecting myself. I thought I was protecting you.” A beat. “I’m sorry, okay?”</p><p>Eva sighs. “I just...don't want you to lose your job. I’m not mad at you.” And she’s not, not really. But maybe there's still a part of her that wonders whether or not the fight really <em>was</em> just a lapse in Neil's judgment, and if it wasn't, if she knows her partner as well as she thought she did.</p><p>She delicately plasters a bandage on his forehead, smoothing it over the cut. Her fingers softly brush up against the dark bruising around his eye. He winces under her touch, pulling away from her.</p><p>"I'm sorry," she whispers.</p><p>He shakes his head. "Don't be."</p><p>“There’s not much we can do for that except wait for the swelling to go down,” she says. “I can get you a fresh ice back from the freezer. It should help with your hand, too."</p><p>He nods, yet his eyes linger on hers. She smooths his hair back from his forehead.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah. I'm better."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Eva is awake just past midnight when a nightmare hits her full force.</p><p>It's one of her recurring ones, one that used to overwhelm her nearly every night when she first started working for Sigmund. She hasn't had this dream in a while. Of course, it's back in all its wrath during a time when things couldn't feel more hopeless.</p><p>She sits upright and rubs her aching back, ignoring the squeak of cheap couch springs that she heard repeatedly as she tossed and turned throughout the night. The storm has ceased, though the rain outside still persists, a gentle pitter patter that becomes a distant hum as tears well in her eyes. She feels stupid for being so scared of such a silly thing - <em> I'm a doctor, not a kid, damn it, </em>she thinks to herself - but the surge of confidence in her chest depletes just as soon as it rises. If the past several hours have taught her anything, it's that adults are just as capable, if not more, of feeling afraid, of messing up beyond repair.</p><p>She’s shaking and sweating and disoriented, and soon enough she’s stumbling into her own bedroom, abandoning her detestable sleeping arrangement. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but when they do, she sees a figure shifting upward in her bed.</p><p>Neil sits up, gazing at her in confusion. She wonders briefly how loud her footsteps must have been to wake him, then wonders if he had even slept. “Eva? Are you okay?"</p><p>She doesn't reply, only stands in the doorway, swallowing a pathetic whimper. What is she doing here? What is she supposed to say?</p><p>"Do you want to trade?" Neil asks.</p><p>She shakes her head. <em> No. </em>“Can I stay?”</p><p>He hesitates, and she thinks that maybe she overstepped, and she's just about to turn back when he moves his body to one side. It's just enough to make room for her. She steps to the other side of the bed and slides in next to him, pulls the softened sheets all the way up to her chin and sinks into the mattress, lets herself melt into the familiarity.</p><p>Neither of them move, both lying utterly still, terrified of breaking some unspoken rule or decency. Outside the rain continues to wash away the unpleasantries of the world, leaving behind a fresher earth for when morning comes. The earthy scent of petrichor hangs heavy in the air.</p><p>“How’s your head?” she asks hesitantly.</p><p>Neil turns so that he's facing her. Eva lifts herself on her elbow and suddenly they're twelve year-olds at a middle school sleepover, awake far past their bedtime, exchanging truths and dares and secret crushes.</p><p>“I know you’re still upset," he half-whispers. "But look on the bright side. You're gonna get a new partner."</p><p>"I don't want a new partner."</p><p>"A better one, hopefully. One you can trust. One you can rely on."</p><p>"I don't want a better one. I want you."</p><p>He looks younger without his glasses, his face boyish and child-like. It reminds her of how he looked when they first met, how they both looked, still so full of youth and spark and yeah, stupidity. Sometimes Eva feels older than she actually is. So much has changed. So much hasn't. In a way it doesn't feel like either of them ever truly grew up, and maybe nobody ever does. You just wake up one day and you're thirty, still making the same mistakes you did when you were ten.</p><p>They sit like that for a while, peacefully, harmoniously, and then Eva rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. She's drifting into sleep, lingering somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness when she suddenly hears Neil's voice, low and broken.</p><p>“I’m addicted to painkillers.”</p><p>It's possibly the last thing she expected to hear, today, now, maybe ever, and it startles her, so much so that her brain seems to stop working entirely.</p><p>
  <em>I'm addicted to painkillers.</em>
</p><p>It's not a secret. It's not remarkable, that string of words arranged in that particular order. And she already knows, of course. She's known from the moment her fingers touched the pill bottle for the first time, a little nudge from the universe, a single second that altered everything she thought she was sure of. Neil wasn't built to be a liar. There's very little he can effectively keep from her.</p><p>But that's not the point. That's not what this is about.</p><p>Because his admission is just as much for him as it is for her. This time around, he knows the truth as well as she does. And it's in his own words, on his own terms. This time around, his vulnerability is a gift to her rather than something she snatches from his grasp, stolen from him before he's ready to even acknowledge it's there.</p><p>She stays silent for far too long, stumbling over her words, lost on how to respond, how to react.</p><p>How does she tell him that she forgives him? That she’s worried about him? That he’s her <em> partner, </em>and she accepts every side of him, even the scary parts?</p><p>“Thank you for telling me," she whispers.</p><p>He doesn't reply, but that's alright.</p><p>They sleep peacefully after that, ignoring the harsh uncertainties of whatever comes next. Warm and safe in her bed, buried under Eva's many blankets and comforters, listening to rain on the window.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the writing in this is subpar at best, neil and eva sweetie you deserve better i'm so sorry</p><p>ao3 is just a test of how many "neil almost leaves sigmund" fics i can write before the earth just kills itself</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. (or not at all)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil's heart misses a single beat when a knock on the door collides with the dense silence in the room.</p><p>It's been a few days since the <em> incident, </em>so to speak, one he never got official news on besides the stay-at-home order from his boss (until she can "figure out what to do with him"). He's had his fair share of failures, but this one certainly tops it, and he's been on edge ever since Eva dropped him off at home, even to the point of cleaning half his apartment and color-coordinating his entire wardrobe. Anything to take his mind off his impending firing.</p><p>He looks down at himself; sweatpants and a stained T-shirt that's definitely a little too long past its last washing. With his current appearance, he hopes it's Eva and not some higher power coming to deliver the news, even though he'd be mortified either way. He inhales, exhales, and opens the door. </p><p>There she is, still in her work clothes, leaning against the adjacent wall with a smirk she's visibly trying to hide. The afternoon sunlight hits her perfectly, giving her dark hair and eyes a golden glow. <em> God, she's pretty.</em></p><p>"Hey," she says. Her smile abruptly fades, and Neil isn't sure if he's ready to hear what she has to say.</p><p>"Hey yourself. What's the verdict?"</p><p>Eva takes a long look at him, then purses her lips together. She shakes her head somberly. "Time to pack up your things, Watts."</p><p>His blood runs cold. "<em>What</em>?"</p><p>Then she erupts into mischievous giggles, bracing the doorframe for support. "Paid suspension, effective immediately," she replies through her laughter, wiping tears away with one hand. Neil sighs deeply, both with relief and annoyance.</p><p>"You couldn't have <em> led </em> with that?" he exclaims, placing a hand on his chest theatrically. "I just saw my whole life flash before my eyes. Thought I was gonna have to get a part-time job, sell my special edition Yu-Gi-Oh cards, move back in with my parents….the <em> horror. </em>"</p><p>"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she says with a laugh, playfully shoving him aside and letting herself into the room. For a moment he feels embarrassed about his state of affairs, wishing he'd at least had a shower before she came over. "I'm the one who saved your career, let me have a little fun."</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "You?"</p><p>"It took a lot, but they've decided they aren't gonna let you go just yet," she says as she observes his apartment, shuffling towards a side table and lifting a wooden picture frame in her hands. Neil recognizes it as the photo of them standing in front of Sigmund, their first year on the job. "You're on pretty thin ice though, so maybe don't go punching anymore of our patients' family members, okay?"</p><p>A surge of warmth and gratitude rushes through him. <em> Would he even be at Sigmund if it weren't for her constantly sticking up for him? </em>"Thanks."</p><p>She waves a hand. "It was nothing."</p><p>"No, I mean...thank you."</p><p>She gives him a soft grin. "Hey, you'd do the same for me."</p><p>Something fills the room for a few moments, something wordless and unspoken, a sense of clarity. It lingers a little too long, and Eva clears her throat to dispel the awkwardness. </p><p>"Have you eaten?" she asks. "I'm starving. We can go grab dinner, if you're up for it."</p><p>He nods absentmindedly, then quickly shakes his head. "Actually, since you're here, how about I cook us something?"</p><p>She raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know you could cook."</p><p>"Hey, I do have an Italian side," he says, to which Eva laughs. "I don't have much in the kitchen, but I could make some lasagna, or something."</p><p>She tilts her head, then shrugs. "Sure, why not?"</p><p>He smiles and claps his hands together. "Great! Let me just go put on some, uh, actual clothes. You can have anything your heart desires. Consider me your personal chef," he adds with an overdramatic bow. "At your service."</p><p>She smiles brightly. "I'm honored."</p><p>It's a simple thing, cooking dinner for her. Eating with her, in his apartment with soft music in the background, retelling work stories and laughing over things that won't even seem funny later. A lot of things about their friendship, their partnership, are simple. Trivial. Minute.</p><p>But those moments are the ones worth remembering.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you so much for reading &lt;3 i know it's a short piece overall, but i decided not to drag it on for too long. short and sweet is the fluff motto.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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